Sunday, January 22, 2012

::one year ago::

This time last year I was home on sick leave trying to dig my head out of a black hole of despair over the death of my baby.

I have a few really vivid memories that are not fading away yet.

1. The actual physical feeling of him falling out and the instinctive reaction to catch him. Gross. I wish it wasn't in my head, but it still lives there. And even with this current baby being almost born and with the fact that he is over 7 pounds already, I still have this back of my mind totally irrational on the tip of my toes ready to catch him feeling if he too happens to just fall out.

2. The morning after we got home from the hospital I woke up and for just one second thought it was all one of those sometimes horribly vivid dreams that I have. I immediately knew it was not.

3. The whole time we were in the hospital Josh and I kept saying to each other, "This sure is a lot more fun when you get to take a baby home with you." It was oddly funny to us at the time. But we also spent that time watching the first season of Dexter on DVD. Sometimes we are moderately screwed up.

I finally managed to work up the balls to go and pick up Zack's ashes. One of my dear friends had picked them up from the funeral home for me a year ago. She kept them for me and never mentioned it. She handled herself with the grace and class that she radiated from ever pore. Ironically her name is Joy. Something she brings lots of to the world. All that was left of that baby that I loved so easily was a small bag of ashes. A cheap velvet jewelry bag with a strong plastic ziplock bag inside. Maybe a fourth of a cup of ashes. My kids sat in the back watching a movie while Joy passed him over. They never knew what was going on. Now he is sitting on the top shelf of my closet.

Lily - put your father and I's ashes together. Then add Zack. Sprinkle us any where you think we would want you to. Sneak us into Disney, all four parks - you're creative, figure it out. Just don't let Zack be sprinkled somewhere alone.